


Eastward Bound

by DomesticGoddess



Series: Centaurs of Middle Earth [5]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Centaurs, Dwarves are mini drafts, Gen, Hobbits are ponies, Pony!Bilbo, Slavery, bad humans, centaur!au, hermaphrodite!Bilbo, language barriers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24991522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DomesticGoddess/pseuds/DomesticGoddess
Summary: Bilbo Baggins is a little pony Centaur of the Shirelings--a reclusive race of curly pony centaurs. With no parents and a hefty inheritance, his family wants to force him into an arranged union, but he's having none of it. Striking out on his own, he leaves the Shire in search of a home among the Khuzd centaurs that he's only seen from a distance. Unfortunately, things don't go according to plan and he finds himself captured and dragged eastward by human traders.
Relationships: Pre-Thorin/Bilbo
Series: Centaurs of Middle Earth [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1020915
Comments: 13
Kudos: 50





	Eastward Bound

**Author's Note:**

> This is a backstory for "The Herd of Durin" and follows Bilbo's travels eastward before he finds Thorin's herd. This story takes place before the time of the HOD setting and is canon to the HOD universe.😉

Bilbo stood off to the side, swishing his tail defiantly as the stallions of his family tribes debated among themselves about what should be done with him and, more importantly, his father’s territory. 

Stomping his foot, he crossed his arms in annoyance. He wasn’t joining any of their herds. And he wasn’t going to be handed of at random either. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? He didn’t even care about the land. It’s not like he could take care of it all by himself. Why couldn’t he just stay with the gelding herd?

He spotted one of the younger stallions trotting his way and immediately walked away with his nose in the air. None of them cared about him. They just wanted his father’s land. Like every other gelding, as soon as he joined one of their herds, he’d get pushed to the side to take care of their mares and foals. Only if he was really lucky, would his stallion take any interest in him. 

He'd rather stay with the geldings. There were mated pairs and even trios within the geldings, though they weren’t allowed to own territory and weren’t officially recognized as herds by the stallions. But they were happy and were supported by the other geldings. And most importantly, they were equals. 

Sighing, he warded off yet another young stallion. He wished they’d just leave him alone. The group of older stallions finally approached him again and he spent the rest of the evening stubbornly refusing all of their suggestions and propositions. 

That night, he silently got up from his sleeping pallet and waded through the crowd of slumbering geldings. He couldn’t stay any longer. Quietly making his way to one of the gelding smials, slipped in. He grabbed a pair of baskets and threw them over his back, filling them up with dried and fresh fruit. He grabbed several clay water jugs and tied them together using some thin rope and threw them over his back as well. He would fill them up on his way out. 

Sneaking out, he headed for the Shire border. He didn’t make it far before someone jumped out and grabbed him, almost making him squeal. 

“Hey! Where ya goin’?!” The gelding wondered. “Not a secret tryst without me, I hope.”

“Get off, Dino!” Bilbo grumbled quietly. “I have to leave the Shire. I have to go tonight.”

“What? Leave the Shire?! Why? What are you thinking?! It’s not safe out there! All alone?!”

“There are other herds out there! I know there are! I’ve seen them in the distance. I just need to make it to one of those herds.” 

“But they’re not like us!” Dino pulled at the full baskets on Bilbo’s back. “And they move around! You don’t even know if there are any nearby right now. And what if they don’t let you join them?! What if they attack you?!”

“It’s still better than this place!” Bilbo yanked his baskets out of Dino’s grip. “They’re going to hand me over to Otho, Dino! They’re going to force me to join his herd!”

“Eew.” Dino’s face scrunched up on disgust. “That idiot? And Lobelia." He shuddered. "Everyone knows she’s terrible to his geldings.”

“Exactly! It’d be bad enough if it wasn’t him! But there is no way I’m going to serve him for the rest of my life!” Bilbo insisted vehemently. 

“All right, I get it. Well, wait for me then. I’ll come with you!” Dino offered. 

“No. Dino, you have to stay and take care of the other geldings!”

“What? And just let you wander out there alone?! No way! I’m coming.”

“Dino,” Bilbo groaned at his stubbornness. “I’m leaving because I have to. This is my decision. The other still need you.”

“But I-“

“I’ll come back.” Bilbo vowed. “If I find a herd out there that would welcome us geldings. I’ll come back. To get you and any others that might want to leave. I promise.”

Dino scoffed. “They’re cowards. They wouldn’t leave even if you gave them the option.”

“Then I’ll come back or you. If I find a place for us.” He wrapped his arms around Dino’s neck and pulled him down into a hug. 

“Fine.” Dino surrendered quietly. “But you better be careful. . . And be safe.” He chuckled softly. “That’s my Bo. Always the brave and stubborn one. Who knows, maybe you’ll find that special stallion you’re looking for.”

“Thank you, Dino.”

“Just, be careful, all right? And stay away from the humans. They can’t be trusted.”

“I will.” Bilbo nodded. “Thank you.” He pushed up onto the tips of his hooves to reach as he nuzzled his best friend. “Take care of the others.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dino grumbled but let him go. “I better see you soon, Bo!” He called as Bilbo walked away. 

Bilbo didn’t reply but gave him a final wave. By dawn, he had breached the edge of the Shire. He glanced around cautiously and headed north.

~~~~~

A week later found him sitting next to a little stream, refilling his water jugs and eating one of his rationed meals. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of a single centaur since he’d left the Shire. And he was starting to get worried. 

He had seen a few humans, but had quickly made himself scarce every time. Sighing, he freshened up in the water. He hadn’t realize the other herds would be so far away. He should have grabbed more baskets of food. 

He jumped suddenly when a howl pierced the air. He shot up to his feet and grabbed his stuff, the sound of barking rapidly approaching. He took off before he could even fully secure his baskets and just hoped they wouldn’t fall off. 

In no time, dogs came charging at him from amidst the trees, snarling and biting at his heels. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, flashbacks of terror and fangs driving him to run in pure instinct. He squealed when one lunged for his leg and he kicked out on reflex, nearly stumbling from the interruption to his stride. 

Bursting out of the corpse of trees he’d taken refuge in, the dogs were still on his heels. Suddenly, there were other centaurs running for him. But not just centaurs, they had humans riding them. The centaurs were tall with long legs and easily overtook him. One of the humans threw a rope at him and it caught under an arm and over a shoulder. 

He reared with a squeal when they yanked him to a stop, trying to pry of the rope to get away. But another wrapped around him and then another. Rearing and bucking, he pulled, trying to get them off, but there were too many and the other centaurs were just too big. 

After a final hard tug, he tumbled to the ground and images of red on white filled his panicking mind. He thrashed wildly, kicking one of the dogs square in the head, and struggled to get back up. Only when one of the humans jumped down and tackle his upper torso, pinning his face into the ground and tying his arms behind his back, did he stop fighting.

Outnumbered, outsized, and with the man’s knee pressed into the back of his neck and arms tied painfully behind him, there wasn’t much he could do. They tied a rope between his front and hind leg and secured another around his neck before they finally pulled him back up to his feet. 

The first thing he did was rear defiantly. Or, at least, he tried. Halfway up, he jerked to a stop and slammed back down. He tried again with the same results. Squealing in distress and trying to figure out why he couldn't rear up, he noticed the rope around his ankles--just far enough apart to let him walk but close enough to keep him from rearing or running.

He stomped and tried to kick it off, but only succeeded in hurting his ankle. Tired, confused and hopeless, he gave up and just tried his best to find even the slightest bit more comfort in the tight ropes. 

A man yanked on the rope around his neck until he followed along and led him away. A little while later, they arrived at a small human camp. Several of the tall centaurs were tied up nearby and studied him curiously as he limped into camp. 

Upon arrival, he received the most embarrassing examination of his life. The humans poked and prodded at him curiously. He shifted and twitched away from their harsh investigations and tried to rear in surprise when one of them grabbed his sheath and squeezed. 

He should have know it was only going to get worse when several of them crowded around and took hold of him. Still, there was no way he would have anticipated one of them coming up behind him and shoving their whole arm inside of him. 

Squealing, he tried to rear at the sudden intrusion and continued to struggle as the man’s hand moved around inside. He stomped and grunted in frustration, feeling violated by the invasion. 

Finally, the man pulled his arm out and said something to the others. Bilbo struggled, fearing a follow-up examination, but they only tugged him over to a tree and tied him to it.

He continued to fight his bonds for some time before giving up and resting against the tree. The men had collected the baskets he had dropped and were examining what little remained of their contents. When one walked over with a piece of dried fruit and held it to his mouth, he was too tired and hungry to spurn the demeaning offer. Besides, he didn’t know what they would do with it if he wasn’t eating It. He only hoped they were smart enough to realize he needed it. 

He played docile the rest of the evening, discreetly working at the ropes around his wrists. They kept him tied up away from the other long-legged centaurs and he didn’t dare call to them. So, he kept quiet and waited until nightfall. 

By the time the sun had set and most of the humans had retired to their bed rolls, he almost had his hands free. He winced as rope rubbed the skin off his wrists, but he was determined. He was so close! 

Waiting until the man on watch was looking away, Bilbo pried his hands loose. He stifled a cry as the motion ripped at his skin, but one of the other centaurs must have heard him as she turned to stare. 

She watched with wide eyes as she realized what he was doing. He gave her a pleading look as he worked on the rope around his neck. She glanced at the humans then back to him. He could see it in her eyes. She was going to give him away. He yanked the rope off his neck just as she whinnied. 

Turning to run just as she pointed at him, he stumbled, forgetting that his feet were still tied together, and tried to find the fastest pace the ropes would allow. It wasn’t fast enough and the men quickly surrounded him and hemmed him in. He tried to rear again but still couldn’t. There was little he could do as they tied him up again even tighter. 

He resisted and cried as the ropes bit into his already bleeding wrists, but the men didn’t care. Suddenly, there was a loud crack and it felt like thorns had been raked over his rump. He shrieked, unable to rear or run or do anything to escape or retaliate.

The cracking sound happened again bringing with it more pain as it clawed over his back. He fought even harder, scared, confused and aching. The cracking sound attacked again and he squealed. He tumbled to the ground, the ropes around his feet tripping him in his frantic attempts to get away from whatever was causing him such pain. 

One of the men jumped on him, grabbing him by the hair on his head and twisted his head up, forcing him to stare at another man. This one stepped closer and squatted down in front of him, tapping a long, stiff rope-like weapon in his hand. He said something but Bilbo didn’t understand the words. 

The man stuck his rolled up weapon in his face and Bilbo flinched away from it. He was smart enough to put two and two together. He didn’t know how, but this was the thing that bit and clawed at him with its loud noise. He panted in fear, but the man wasn’t satisfied. He shoved the weapon into Bilbo's face again, and Bilbo struggled to get away from it. 

The man spoke again, and Bilbo nodded. He didn’t need to know the words they were using to get the point. Trying to escape would equal pain. He nodded again and tried to relax. The man behind him finally let go of his hair. 

They pulled him up to his feet and led him back to camp. He went obediently. They tied him up to the tree again, the rope around his neck painfully tight and taunt. The rest of the night was spent doing his best not to move to avoid pulling it tighter and cutting off his air. He couldn't even afford to cry. 

The next morning they fed each of the centaur before breaking camp and preparing to move on. They only gave him a few pieces of his dried fruit and he did his best to eat them slowly, but he was so hungry. 

They saddled a few of the mares and tied the rest to their saddles. Besides the centaurs they were riding, their were four mares tied up together, one stallion which they kept separate and Bilbo which they also kept away from the others. 

Bilbo winced as he was tugged along, stifling his cries as the rope rubbed in to his already raw flesh. It was a constant struggle not sream as the human pulled at him, making the rope pinch and rub. He went as fast as he could but the ropes around his feet limited his stride.

They hadn’t even been traveling an hour when one of the men rode up behind him and smacked his rear with a long stick. He squealed and jumped to get away from the assault but the ties around wouldn’t let him go far. He tried to walk faster but it was difficult to go any faster when he was limited to such small steps. 

A couple minutes later, the stick hit him again. He shrieked and tried to jump only to tumble to the ground when the ropes tripped him. His voice cut off sharply as the rope around his neck was yanked tight around his neck in his fall. Wheezing for air, he tried desperately to lift his head high enough to keep from hanging himself. 

One of the men jumped off their centaur and grabbed the rope around his neck, yanking it loose. He sucked in a huge gulp of air before coughing it back out. The men shouted at each other as he lay on the ground, coughing and sobbing quietly to himself. He just wanted the pain to stop. 

After a heated argument between the humans, one of them came over and cut the ropes off his ankles. They dragged him to his feet, smacking him with the stick again when he was too tired and in too much pain to properly help. 

After getting him up and tying him to the saddle, they resumed their trek. With his feet freed, he was able to keep pace with them and it seemed to appease some of their wrath. But they pushed him hard and fed him little. By the time they came across the first town, he was a flimsy, matted mess. 

They sold the stallion and one of the mares and bought another. But no one was interested in a little, sickly pony and they beat him like it was his fault. It was only when one of the men took notice of his rapid weight loss that they got the brilliant idea to start feeding him more. But, with the last of his dried fruit gone, all they had to offer him were grains. 

They gave him bread when it became so hard or moldy that even they wouldn’t eat it, but otherwise he had to eat grains like the other centaurs. He ate it, if only to avoid starving, but the seeds were hard in his teeth and shredded up his tender mouth. The tang of blood became the consistent flavor of his meals. 

They left the town and headed south east. Eventually his streak of obedience earned him the freedom of his arms, which were unusable for days after he finally regained use of them. They had been tied behind his back for so long, it felt unnatural to have them hanging free. 

The days were long as they traveled, but he learned to avoid the beatings. It didn’t mean he had given up. But he knew better than to test these humans any further. He knew they intended to sell him. Unless an opportunity happened to present itself, it would be better to wait until he was under knew management before he made any more escape attempts. 

The only problem was that every day they dragged him farther and farther away from the Shire. And, with every passing day, his doubt about being able to make it back grew more and more. When they reached the southern pass, he had lost all hope of making it back, though his determination to regain his freedom only grew. 

The men eventually decided he wasn’t a threat for unwanted breedings and began keeping him tied with the others and he attempted to befriend the mares when the humans weren’t looking. 

He still couldn't speak or understand them--not that they talked much--but they seemed curious about him and he did his best to foster good relations. However, he had to do so silently. He was struggling to learn the language the human’s used and had noticed that the other centaurs at least understood it. They didn't seem allowed to speak, though. He merely pointed at a flower and asked what it was once, only to earn him and the mare a sound beating. He stopped trying to learn after that. 

But he was able to build rapport with one of the mares in particular who seemed to equate him as a foal or yearling. She would shield him from the weather or sleep next to him for warmth whenever possible. He became quite fond of her, even if their relationship was founded on a misunderstanding. 

Unfortunately, he lost her company when she was sold at a village in Rohan and he was alone once again. He stopped trying to get close to any of them after that. The fear of befriending them only to be separated was greater than the limited benefits he might receive from their friendship. He remained pleasant, of course, but didn't seek to build any bonds. 

Days had dragged on and turned into weeks and, eventually, months. The journey wasn't much more than a blur as little stuck out to him anymore. His reality too muddled by pain and hunger. There was one stop he was keenly aware of though. 

They stopped at some kind of farm or ranch. There were many centaurs contained in a large fenced area. But that’s not why it stuck out. The experience seared itself into his brain because a vile smelling, fat man had grabbed him by his hair and pried open his mouth. He’d been examined roughly before finally being pushed away in rejection. 

Bilbo was actually grateful for the pass. The stinking man’s calculating eyes made him shiver. It was the only time he was thankful to be leaving with his captors. 

Soon though, another rancher of a much smaller establishment took notice of him and seemed willing to pay the price the men had placed on him. With a simple exchange of money between hands, he became a different human’s property. 

At first it seemed better. He was taken to a stable and allowed to rest in a stall. they still fed him the hard grains and not nearly enough, but he had constant access to water and could finally rest after months of almost nonstop walking. 

Yes, the first several days seemed much better. He rested and his raw flesh healed. It wasn’t until they guided him out to a small fenced area that he realized things were going to be much worse. 

He limped into the small space cautiously, the rocks stuck in his hooves still making every step painful. He wandered around for a few moments, wondering what they wanted him to do, when they guided another centaur into the small area. It was a stallion. 

Bilbo sidestepped away suspiciously as the stallion closed in. Suddenly, the stallion was rearing up and trying to mount him. Squealing and bucking, he kicked the stallion away and retreated to the other side of the fence.

The stallion considered him cautiously, before slowly approaching for another attempt. Again Bilbo buck and kicked him away. 

The humans were not pleased but led him back to his stall. There was no way he was just going to stand there and be bred. He’d rather be beaten.

The next day they tried again with a different stallion and again the next day. The day after that they attempted to hold him still for the stallion but he bucked and kicked and struggled until the stallion was too wary to even try to mount. They beat him that day, but he didn’t care. 

He was left alone for a while after that, though he noticed his food rations had been lessened. They kept him isolated in his stall for several days before finally bringing him back out. 

They led him to a large paddock and hope swelled in his chest. Were they going to give him space to run? If he could find a weak or low spot in the fence, he could get out! He bounced with growing excitement as they continued to quide him into the field. He pulled at the ropes, eager to run and move freely as much as to escape. 

But they never released him. He became suspicious when they led him toward a post. He struggled when he realized they intended to tie him to it, but a hard stick to his flank coerced him into submission. As they secured his scarred wrist to the top of the post, he glanced around the field warily. At least he was the only one there. 

But not for long. As soon as the humans retreated, all three of the stallions they had tried to breed him with were let loose into the field. He pulled at the ropes as they charged toward him but couldn’t even loosen them. 

They circled him like vultures as he desperately fought against his ties. He tried to kick at them as they got closer but was too restricted in his movement. The best he could do was swerve about and lower his rump to make it hard for them to mount. 

When they teamed up against him, two of them barricading him in so the third could mount, he thought he was done. He squealed at the top of his lungs--angry, frustrated, and hopeless. It would have been better to be stuck with Otho and Lobelia than be reduced to this. 

A stallion grabbed his barrel in his forelegs and tried to mount. He screwed his eyes shut and tried to imagine he was somewhere else.

Suddenly, something hit him and he shrieked in surprise. The stallion that was behind him was now rolling on the ground as it tried to get back on its feet. There were now two more stallions in the paddock, but they didn’t look anything like the other three. 

One of them cut him loose and shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling him away as the other fended off the three tall stallions. He ran as fast as he could. Were they helping him? Or did they just want him for themselves? He decided he didn’t care. He’d mate them willingly if it got him away from this place. 

He faltered at the fence, unable to jump it. He expected the black stallion to just leave him, but he came back and shattered a part of the fence. At the red stallion’s prompting, he finally jumped it and ran to freedom with the two strange stallions. 

They were nothing like his people and he still couldn’t understand them, but they treated him well. He didn’t know what the price was going to be for their aid, but they seemed to be independent of the humans. Maybe he could find safety with them. 

The big, black stallion held out a hand, his expression confident, but gentle. Bilbo took it. This stallion made him feel safe and he hadn’t felt like that in a very long time.


End file.
